Trust
by LetItRain25
Summary: SPOILERS for season 8: Takes place between Citizen Fang and Torn and Frayed. Dean starts to trust Sam again. Some Dean whump and awesome!Sam


Hey everyone! So first of all thanks for checking out this story!

This takes place in early season 8 right after Citizen Fang. It is my first hunt fic so plllleeeeasssee tell me what you think :)

The story is un-beta'd so all mistakes are my own, and as always I don't own the boys, just torture 'em a little :)

Warning: Spoilers for season 8 (obviously), some language (it's Dean's fault, I swear), and potentially graphic.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Trust

Dean didn't trust Sam. He kept trying, he just didn't. Sam's reflexes were slower and he had to be talked into every hunt, and oh yeah, he'd abandoned his brother in purgatory. Dean knew that this was old news and he was going to have to let it go eventually, but he was just having a hard time with it.

He was having an especially hard time with it after being knocked out and handcuffed while his brother went to chase down the only friend Dean had. Fortunately Sam hadn't been able to follow-through, but it's not like that was a win for Dean either. Now Sam was pissed, and Dean was pissed, and this sucked.

Well, really _now_ Dean was stumbling around the woods, in the dark, alone.

They had been hunting a Wendigo in Michigan. Well, based on the descriptions the vics had provided they thought they'd been hunting a Wendigo in Michigan. Large, skeletal, deep black eyes, in the woods, eats its victims. The only weird part was that only the livers had been missing from the vics, but Wendigo still seemed to be the most viable option so far.

There had been two bodies found over the course of a month, with several others, also missing a liver, going back about 50 years. Sam had gone to the library to check out a connection between the most recent vics, finding nothing more than that one of the vics was a former cop and the other a former Marine.

Dean and Sam had calculated that the lair must be in an abandoned sulfide mine that had closed when the mining company had been bought out. The hike out had started during the day, but rough terrain had slowed their progress significantly. They finally made it to the mine shaft in the early evening.

At this point, they found two things they hadn't counted on: One, there was no vic being stored in the mine as they had anticipated. This would have been good until they found Two, they were most definitely not hunting a Wendigo.

"Sam? Something's not right with this, did we miss something?" Dean continues looking through the mine, finding nothing that would typically indicate a Wendigo's presence. No bodies, no distinct hide-out, nothing really abnormal.

"I don't know, man. Livers. What only takes livers?" Sam says more to himself as he begins to think. The tunnel is dark except for what is illuminated by his flashlight, but something just isn't adding up here.

"Maybe this just isn't the lair, or whatever?" Dean asks hopefully when a big gust of wind blows in, and Dean is tackled to the ground by what feels like a very bony line-backer.

Sam turns as Dean lets out a startled cry, not even seeing what had hit his brother.

"Dean! You ok?" Dean is lying on the ground, pulling himself onto all fours when he jerks, like he's been kicked in the gut.

"Dean!" Sam fires his shotgun into the seemingly empty space, no longer sure of what to use to kill whatever it was.

Nothing, not a sound. Dean is using the wall to pull himself up, Sam coming over to help when another gust of wind comes and he tries to grab Dean, but Dean is already gone.

"What the hell? Dean?! DEAN!"

Sam frantically searches the entire shaft, finding nothing.

"Damnit!" He yells, frustrated, listening to the sound echo around the mine. Ok Sam, think. What only takes livers, hunts in the woods, is tall, thin, black eyes.

He is in the woods now, searching for anywhere his brother may have been taken.

"Shit. A Baykok. It's a friggin' Baykok." Sam says to himself.

Dean remembers being thrown through the air, hitting a tree. He groans, pulling himself up from the ground as a creature approaches fitting just the right description. A shrill cry echoes from its mouth as it approaches its prey, forcing Dean to cover his ears.

Dean is standing by the time the creature has reached him, but that does not prepare him for what happens next. Blow after blow hits him, all over his body, coming from all directions. It feels like he is getting hit with a sledge hammer. There is no time to recover or even cry out in pain as one shot hits him right in the kidney.

Dean blindly reaches for the flame thrower. By this point he has no idea where his attacker is but he instinctively aims the flames in a 360 degree circle around himself, satisfied when he sees a pair of legs catch fire.

The flaming figure runs through the woods, the shrill scream pouring out of its mouth again.

Dean stands, his legs unstable, wiping the blood away from his eyeball. He follows the blood trail, finding a gash on his forehead. He can tell already that his body will be nothing more than a mess of bruises come morning.

So, here he is, stumbling through the woods, with a partner he can't trust, and a body that refuses to cooperate. Today is turning out to be awesome.

"Sam!" he yells. Hoping his brother can hear him. Dean is trying to get his surroundings to determine how far away the mine is. He sees what he hopes is the entrance and starts heading in that general direction. Of course the fact that his vision is wavering and he is seeing two of everything is kind of slowing his progress.

"All in a day's work Winchester," he mutters to himself. 'Oh great, now I'm talking to myself' he thinks. 'As long as you don't respond to yourself it's ok, isn't that what they always say? Wait. Does that count as responding to yourself? No, you didn't say it out loud so it clearly doesn't count. Oh. Good. Damnit. You may have a concussion.'

Dean's inner monologue distracts him from the pain blossoming all around his body. Unfortunately, it also distracts him from the creature. He feels something slash past his side. He turns, seeing nothing, and finding nothing that would've hit him, but the blood blossoming from the right side of his ribs would seem to suggest that something definitely hit him.

"SAM!" is the last thing he yells before face-planting to the ground in blissful, dreamless unconsciousness.

Dean hears his brother, running to him as he sees his brother fall. Sam can see the figure now. It looks like it's been charred which must be why it's slowed down. Dean must've hit it with the flame thrower at some point. Sam aims his own and fires, resulting in the creature disappearing.

Sam approaches his brother, finding him beat-up and unconscious.

"Dean, dean wake up man." Sam checks Dean's pulse, finding it steady along with his breathing. Sam checks over his brother finding blood on his brother's side.

"Shit." Sam quickly wipes his hands off on his jeans. Baykok's shoot arrows laced with poison. Some of it must've gotten into his brother, hence his unconscious state. Sam knows there is a cabin nearby where one of the head mining guys lived.

Sam gets his arms under his brother's arm pits, pressing Dean's back into Sam's stomach to get him into the sitting position. Sam pauses, just feeling his brother leaned against him. They hadn't exactly had a great relationship since Dean had been back and it felt good to feel like his brother was back again. Sure, it was an unnaturally calm and sleeping Dean, but it was his Dean nonetheless.

Sam knew Dean didn't trust him but Sam was trying. Sam smiles to himself, preparing to pull the two brothers into a standing position, realizing that this was the first physical contact he'd had with Dean that didn't feel tense. Leave it to Dean to be unconscious for the chick-flick moment.

Recognizing that Dean is down-for-the-count Sam prepares himself to prove to Dean that he is trustworthy. That Sam can have his back.

Sam groans as he pulls the two men into a standing position.

"No more pie, Dean." He turns Dean's limp body around so that he can pick him up in a fireman's carry. "Ever. No more burgers, no more fries, salads only." Sam says. Sam was no wimp, but he was not in the shape that he used to be and Dean had packed on even more muscle, making this process a lot more difficult than he'd hoped for.

It takes ten minutes of stumbling through the woods before Sam finds the cabin. He is relieved that there is a couch and a fireplace when he first walks in. He places Dean on the couch, stretching his back muscles, trying to relieve some of the tension that has managed to build up there. He misses the neck massages Amelia used to give him when he would come home sore from a day at the motel. She would rub his back, offering kisses along his neck and jaw line while she massaged. Looking at the small cabin consisting of one room with a couch, fireplace, and kitchen area with a stove and a fridge he realizes how much he is going to miss her. Miss his life with her. Looking at his brother, passed out on the couch though, he realizes it couldn't be any other way. At least not yet.

Sam checks the cabin, finding a small first aid kit with nothing but bandaids on a shelf above the fireplace, and a large rat in the cabinet in the kitchen Sam goes through his brother's gear, pulling out the larger first aid kit he'd packed.

Getting Dean's shirt of proves easier than he originally thought, but only because Dean is out cold. He doesn't even groan when Sam probes some of the bruised areas. Most of the bruising is superficial, but it looks like the ones by Dean's abdomen may have actually bruised the muscles. A few of his ribs are bruised for sure, and one of the bruises over his kidney is going to hurt like hell for a while, but otherwise there is no serious damage.

Dean's head is going to require stitches, which Sam sets to work on after rinsing the wound out with holy water and alcohol. He's out of practice on his stitching so it's probably good that Dean can't feel what is about to happen. He manages to get the stitches done in a reasonably straight line, pouring on enough Neosporin to limit the appearance of any scar. Dean likes scars, but even Dean doesn't want anything messing with his face.

Now to the hard part. The gash on Dean's side isn't deep. Hell, it's not even bleeding much, Sam notes. There is probably some anti-coagulants in the poison to keep the victim from bleeding out before the Baykok can get to the liver. Either way, though, this is going to need stitches, and no amount of Neosporin will prevent a scar here. Sam starts with the holy water and alcohol first, though, each resulting in their own fizzling as both natural and supernatural infection is fought off. 12 stitches and a couple of butterfly bandages later and Dean is officially patched up.

Next, Sam pulls out their Dad's journal reading up on the Baykok. He's heard of them before, but has never hunted one himself. He's relieved to find that the poison just results in a dreamless sleep for a couple of hours before it wears off.

Sam finds the firewood that is still stacked against the outside of the house and starts a fire in the fireplace. The cabin is pretty much empty, so he has no blanket for Dean or himself and it's Michigan at night so the temperature is starting to drop.

Sam lifts Dean's head up slightly, placing it back down on Sam's thigh as Sam sits. Dean is going to be pissed when he wakes up like this, but there are also no chairs, forcing Sam to either sit on the cold floor or share the couch with Dean. Since he is cold and Dean has goosebumps popping up on his skin, Sam decides sharing some body heat might not be the worst course of action.

Sam gets comfortable on the couch, finishing reading about the Baykok, and keeping a watchful vigil over his big brother.

It's about five hours later when Dean finally stirs. His head had been facing the fire, but he rolls over, burying his face into Sam's hip, simultaneously seeking warmth and hiding from the light the fire offers.

Sam smiles at his brother's attempt to literally snuggles into Sam before Dean slowly begins to wake. He blinks a few times, taking a moment to gather his surroundings before shooting upright.

"Sam."

"Yes?"

"Why were you cuddling with me on the couch?"

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, technically I think you were cuddling with me."

Sam can't help but laugh at the death-glare his brother sends his way. The smile quickly fades to concern as Dean frowns, rubbing his side.

"Hey, you ok?"

"What happened?" Dean looks around the cabin, as if just noticing he's not in the woods anymore. "And where are we?"

"You got hit by a Baykok."

"What? I thought it was a Wendigo?" Dean says, rubbing his eyes. He still feels a little out of it and generally worn out.

"Well, they look similar and hunt in similar places, but they are from two different Native American tribes. Plus, Wendigos seek out weaklings or whoever gets separated from the pack, while Baykoks only target warriors. Plus Baykoks can only target one prey at a time and only take the liver. And they don't store their victims. They beat them with a club or shoot them with invisible arrows covered in poison."

"So they're like Wendigos on steroids?"

"Basically, yeah."

"Does fire kill them?"

"Kind of. You have to break all their bones and then burn them to ash, then bury the ashes."

"Well that's gonna suck."

"Yeah, especially since they are just as fast as a Wendigo."

"Great." Dean stands slowly, gingerly walking around, testing his body's movement. He is definitely sore. All over. The good news is that he's used to it by now. Wait. Is that good news? Great, now I'm talking to myself again. "So now what?"

"I have a plan."

Dean looks at Sam, curiosity forcing him to ask, "Which is?"

"Well we both torched it and it looks like that slowed it down enough for us to see it. Since it only targets one person and it's already picked you-"

"I get to be bait," Dean finishes for Sam, sensing how uncomfortable Sam was with that part of the plan.

"Yeah. You draw it out, I'll torch it. We grab its mallet, beat it, watch it burn."

"Oh is that all?" Dean is sitting back down. He is uncomfortable on more than one level with this plan. Unfortunately he can't move that quickly at the moment leaving him with no better suggestions. Plus, aside from his own reservations about it, the plan isn't really all that bad considering what they usually go in with….Which is nothing.

"Ok."

"Ok?"

"It's a plan. How do I draw it out?"

"I figured we'd head back over to the mine and start there. It should be around there to heal. The downside is that its night vision is better than ours, but I don't want to give it too much time to recover so it'll have to be tonight."

Dean nods and stands, "Ok, let's go then."

"Dean. Wait man." Sam stands to meet his brother. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Sam."

"I get that, it's just that you got hit with a poison arrow a few hours ago, and-" Sam pauses seeing Dean's expression change. Sam knows he has to handle this carefully otherwise Dean will just go into defensive mode which won't help anyone. He just wants to know if Dean is ok but 'fine' isn't really an answer so Sam forces Dean to take a realistic approach.

"And if you aren't ready this thing could turn on me and take pieces out of both of us."

"I thought you said this thing only hunts one person at a time."

"Yeah, well, in the woods alone with the monster is a bad time to realize the lore was wrong and your plan won't work."

Dean pauses for a moment, absorbing Sam's statement. Sam can already tell Dean is doing a self-assessment to offer an honest answer.

"I'm sore, I'm tired, and I want to get this done so we can leave the freakin' forest. I hate camping. I'm sick of being stuck in the woods, so let's go."

Sam smiles to himself, not appreciating the full weight of the 'stuck in the woods' comment but understanding the desire to just be done with this hunt.

"Ok, let's go." With that, both brothers grab their gear, and head straight for the Baykok's lair. Sam thinks it's unfortunate that so many of their plans start like that, but is happy that at least this time they do actually have a plan.

Once they get closer to the mine Sam finds a place to hold back at where he is hopefully out of the way enough but still close enough to respond.

While Sam stays out of sight, Dean starts trying to get the Baykok's attention.

"Here I am you freakin fugly monster! Delicious liver just waitin' for ya! Come and get it ya freak of nature!"

Dean is yelling whatever taunts he can think of for all of three minutes before he gets tackled into a tree. Pain shoots up his back culminating in one hell of a headache when he tumbles to the ground. The Baykok gets one more swing in, throwing Dean against the mine. His right side where the arrow hits take the blunt of the blow, but his left side where his head was gashed takes the rest when he lands on it.

Dean's vision is tunneling and an unwelcome moan escapes his mouth as he tries to stand. He sees the Baykok tumbling toward him in an odd, gangly walk when Sam leaps out from behind it.

Sam tackles the thing, managing to trap it underneath him, his legs holding the Baykok's arms in place. Sam is losing his grip and he can't seem to get the mallet away from the monster, too busy ducking blows from the thing. He gets hit in the back and yells, "Dean, grab the club!"

Dean manages to stumble in that general direction. He grabs the hand the club is in, wrenching the mallet away before bashing the arm that was holding it. The Baykok screams, but Dean was ready for it this time and his next swing crushes the Baykok's skull in. The legs are next, followed by the other arm. Sam dismounts then, allowing Dean to finish off the torso.

Sam pulls out the homemade blowtorch and sets the thing on fire, watching as the burns slowly crumble to ash.

Dean had not been lying when he said he was sore earlier. Now he downright hurt. The nice thing in Purgatory was that you could just keep pushing on for some reason. Here, though, pain kind of slows you down more. He takes a wobbly step back, leaning against the tree.

His head and side are bleeding again and his vision has gone from double to triple. He looks in the general direction of the three Sams that he sees, deciding to try to look at the one in the middle.

A tired, slightly muffled "Sammy," is the only warning Sam has before he sees his brother slide to the ground. Fortunately it's enough and Sam crosses the small distance between himself and his brother, catching Dean before he introduces his face to the ground again.

Dean is pale, his pulse a little faster than Sam would like. His wounds are bleeding again.

"Dean, hey man, come on. I'm not carrying you all the way back to the car." Sam tries for humor and is rewarded with two green slits looking at him.

"Hey. That's it, open your eyes. How you feelin?"

"S'mmy?" Dean slurs. His head is in Sam's lap again, which he would be opposed to but it's much comfier than the rest of his body which is sprawled across the ground, so he decides to let it go for now.

"Yeah, man. You ok?"

"H'd hurts."

"Well, that's what happens when you use it to break your fall."

"S'md lika good 'dea a' the time." Is Dean's mumbled responses.

"Can you open your eyes for me?"

Dean tries and Sam rewards him by shining a light in his eyes. Dean responds by half-heartedly slapping Sam saying,

"Bad S'mmy."

"Sorry, Dean, just had to check your pupils."

"Coulda jus asked. They're just as sexy as'a rest o' me."

Sam smiles as Dean tries to sit up.

"Yeah. Sexy is not the word for how you look right now."

"Shuddup."

"You good to stand?"

"Maybe?"

"Ok, how about you wait here," Sam says as he pulls Dean into a more upright position, leaning him against a tree, "while I go check on the fire."

"'Kay." Dean leans back and closes his eyes, vaguely aware that Sam was using a collapsible shovel to bury the ashes. Apparently Dean loses time here because the next thing he knows Sam's face is right in front of his and he has that concerned look.

"Wha?"

"Hey! You with me?"

"Where'd I go?"

"I think you passed out, dude."

"Oh. Sucks."

"Agreed. Time to go man."

"'Kay."

Sam dislikes that Dean is still not back to big-boy sentences but is beyond relieved that Dean is conscious again. It took him about a dozen tries before Dean actually did something other than groan. The good news is that he was able to check his brother's pupils. The bad news is that Dean definitely has a mild concussion.

Sam pulls Dean up, on hand holding onto Dean's belt loop to keep him upright while Dean leans against Sam. Dean takes a minute to get his legs under him, and then adamantly pushes Sam away.

"I got this Sammy."

"Sure you do Dean." Sam just steps back, a hand out in case Dean falls.

Dean refuses to accept help. He survived freakin' Purgatory, he can sure as hell survive a day in the woods with a Baykok. Unfortunately his sheer determination doesn't bring his eyes into focus like he was hoping.

By the time they are about halfway to the car Dean is leaned against Sam again. Sam has his arm wrapped around his brother, holding him up. Dean is doing his best to not lean on his brother, but Sam can tell Dean is tiring quickly.

The boys make it to the car. Dean is barely conscious, but he is aware enough to give a "There's my baby" when he sees his car. Sam just smiles and shakes his head.

Sam wedges Dean between himself and the car to prevent him from sliding to the ground while Sam unlocks the door. Dean leans forward, grasping Sam's jacket and placing his head on Sam's shoulder.

For a minute Sam doesn't know what to say. He finally says, "You okay?" and his concern doubles when a grunt is his only reply. Sam unlocks the door, sliding Dean into the seat and gets eye level with his brother.

"Dean?"

Dean looks up, squinting at Sam. "Yeah?"

"How ya feeling?"

"Fine."

"Try again."

"Oh, sorry, I'll take Fine for $200 Alex."

Sam smiles in spite of himself but refuses to give up. "Dean, you're clearly not fine."

Dean recognizes the bitch face in combination with the determined face and frankly he's too tired to argue.

"I feel like shit Sam. I just want to sleep, so can we go now?"

Sam simply appreciates the honesty and angles Dean so he is in the car before slamming the passenger door shut. Sam walks around, throwing their bags in the trunk before climbing in the driver's side. Dean is already leaned against the door, eyes shut, but his clenched jaw suggests he's not asleep yet.

The drive back to the motel is relatively short, both brothers silent the entire way. Sam parks in front of their room, wordlessly exiting the vehicle, grabbing their bags from the trunk and deposits them inside. He is kind of stiff after getting hit by the Baykok a couple of times. Nothing major, but his back will definitely have a few bruises tomorrow.

Dean has managed to open the door and is standing. He is currently only being held up by using the open door and body of the car as makeshift crutches, but decides Sam does not need to know that. Dean noticed Sam's stiff walk and berates himself for not checking on Sam sooner.

Sam walks out, taking hold of his brother's right arm, careful of the gash left by the arrow. He is startled when Dean slows and looks at him,

"You ok, Sammy?"

"Uh, yeah."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, Dean, just took a couple of hits, but I'm fine."

Dean appraises him before smiling "You're stealin' my line, man."

They walk into the room, Sam gently lowering Dean to the bed. Dean wastes no time in falling back with a satisfied grunt.

"Nope, not yet. I've got to check your stitches."

"Sammy." Dean had meant for this to come out as a growl but was displeased to realize it was more of a whine. He attempts to cover it with an "I'm fine."

"Of course you are. Now sit up and prove it."

Dean moans but manages to make it to something akin to a sitting position.

Sam re-cleans the wounds, covering them with gauze before slipping Dean's boots off. He manages to help Dean out of his layers, which is impressive since Dean is mostly asleep by this point.

When Dean finally gets laid down Sam stands, stretching. Normally he would turn the lights off right about now, but since returning from Purgatory Dean seems to prefer sleeping with the lights on. So, instead Sam pulls off his own t-shirts, looking for fresh ones in his bag before he goes to shower.

He can feel Dean's eyes on him and turns.

"Your back's gonna hurt like hell in the morning, you should go shower. Hopefully the warm water will loosen up those muscles" Dean says.

Sam figured Dean would be asleep by now.

"Hi kettle, I'm pot. Nice to meet you."

"Shut up."

"Very eloquent. You need anything?" Sam has no idea why Dean's still awake, but Dean's pale skin, the dark circles under his eyes and his generally lethargic movements all suggest that Dean is exhausted.

"Nope."

"You need sleep, Dean." Dean tries to look offended but his attempt is ruined by a yawn.

"Just gonna keep watch until you shower," Is Dean's sleepy retort.

Sam sighs. Going over to Dean's bed he sits next to his brother. He gently pushes some hair out of Dean's face, proud when Dean inadvertently and sleepily leans into his touch. Dean's eyes are already mostly closed but he stubbornly refuses to give in, widening his eyes every few seconds.

"It's ok, man. I'll stay up. You don't have to keep watch."

"You need to shower."

"I'll be fine. I'll just throw on some of those heated patch things."

Dean looks at Sam skeptically.

"Sleep, Dean. I'll keep watch. I got this I promise. I'm not going anywhere." Sam says all of this while lightly rubbing circles around the back of Dean's neck.

"I know you got this, Sam," is Dean's mumbled response before his eyes close and he drifts off to sleep.

-The End


End file.
